Satisfaction
by Negotiatrix
Summary: Even the Avengers have needs. Each one looks to satisfy them in his or her own way, but sometimes they have to turn to each other for help. No slash. Maybe some romance along the way. Ch1 Bruce. Ch2 Natasha.
1. Bruce

_Once there was a girl; now there is a woman._

When Bruce was in college, there had been this girl. He helped her study, brought her little gifts, took her out, spent weeks softening her up, and one night was led to believe he might actually, finally, get in her pants. She'd had no plans for anything of the kind however.

Looking back, he would laugh to himself and wonder at not turning into a green monster right then and there. Instead he had stalked out of the building and into the parking lot, sure that he was going to suffer some kind of permanent physical damage from the frustration.

He leaned against the back of his car, too full of throbbing and hormones to be able to drive, much less fold himself into the tiny sports car. Then, looking for some sort of outlet, he'd grabbed the bumper and lifted. He strained with all his might, and the car rocked. He even imagined he lifted it off the ground a little, and his arms bulged with the effort. Blood surged back into the rest of his body and when he let go, he felt relaxed again. Drained. Almost, though not quite, as though he'd done it with the girl.

Being the Other Guy was like needing to have sex when he was Bruce. The problem was, there were not many things that the Other Guy had to exert himself to damage or lift or hit. That hammer of Thor's was one of those things though. They told him he had tried lifting it and couldn't, then wouldn't just let it go. He was still trying, teeth clenched and feet pushing into the flooring, when Thor knocked him back. If that hadn't happened, if he'd kept trying, that probably would have been the end right then. The combination of useless striving and repetitiveness finally draining the Other Guy, and he would leave.

Something both he and the monster shared was that unwillingness to let something go, literally or figuratively. It was never done, nothing ever finished, for them whether for good or ill. Annoying military plane not shooting at him anymore? Wreck it anyway. Giant alien attack-whale creature dead? Punch Thor instead. Tony Stark _not_ dead? Well, the Other Guy had managed to not hit him at least, but yelling had helped. Then, when either there was nothing to fixate on, or satisfaction took too long, Bruce could take over again. Mostly.

But life for him now was one of those lucid dreams that can sort of be controlled, though things don't always turn out the way intended. How to find satisfaction was a continual source of conflict between the two of them. When the Other Guy was frustrated Bruce was too, which led directly to his current problem. He needed a woman, and they both had a specific one in mind.

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A/N: I originally wrote the kernel of this as part of Terrorist, but decided no to use it. Not sure where I'm going with it yet, if anywhere. Could be serious, could be humorous, depending on why exactly he wants this particular woman, whoever she is . . . Any suggestions?


	2. Natasha

_Women just need one more often._

How hard could it be to find the way back to a freaking 50 story building? She should have been able to just look up and see it, but there was too much smoke and dust hanging in the air. The Master Spy, Lost in New York City. It sounded like a bad movie. Disorientation was not something she was accustomed to with all of her high tech backup. Of course, it's not like there was an app that could magically naviagate her though the rubble they had made of Manhattan. It was a whole new streetscape.

Somewhere, someone was blaming the Avengers she was sure. Fury was probably already having to deal with the flak from, what term did Stark use? Ah, the Mundanes, and Mundanity. Yes, the Mundanes would be in full counterattack mode by now, the media finding as many stuttering idiots as they could to interview on live television. Thank all the powers that may be that a mile-wide radius around Grand Central was cordoned off by SHIELD soldiers, so no media here.

No bathrooms either apparently. Who thought to lock up when running away from aliens? Most every storefront had the shutters down. Was it too much to ask for a door that she didn't have to kick or shoot to get open? She had no ammo left, and tasers were no help with locksets. She sighed and wished again that she had just used the bathroom at that weird restaurant before they left. But even world-class spy-assassins had hangups, and hers was going to the restroom if others knew that's where she was headed.. She just couldn't bring herself to get up and walk over, knowing that all those men at the table would see where she went, and know what she was doing. Ewww.

The problem with irrational fears is, well, that they are irrational. There is no way to logically assault a position that is inherently defenseless and therefore, in no need of defense. Or something like that. She couldn't remember exactly how Dr. Phil had put it, but it had made sense at the time. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be back in her cozy little room on the helicarrier, able to use her own private bathroom any time she wanted, listening to that comforting voice from the television.

Success at last! A doorway without bars across it, and unlocked! She stepped into the gloom of what seemed to be one of those ubiquitous dollar discount stores and looked around. At the back of the store was a small, hand-lettered sign that pointed to her salvation: "Restrooms for Customer Use Only." It wouldn't be the first time she ignored a warning sign.

A few minutes later she was readjusting her suit and maneuvering between cases of SnoMint mouthwash and knockoff Barbies on her way out when a shadow moved across the store's window. The accumulation of dust and grime on the glass prevented her from seeing much, but it was definitely a human form that had passed by; not a vehicle or leftover alien. She drew her gun, then cursed silently when she remembered her lack of ammo.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I went with a little bit of humor on this one. The first chapter had a bit of true story to it (My 9th grade Health teacher told that college story about himself. Yeah, it was weird and uncomfortable to hear, but memorable!), and this one does too. Remember 9-11 and all those people having to walk out of Manhattan and across the bridges? It took hours for some, and there was a problem for many with finding bathrooms along the way. I couldn't help but throw in a little LO:Criminal Intent reference. Anyone spot it?

I've decided that this story will cover all of the Avengers, and what might satisfy each one, some more serious than others. And don't worry, everything will tie together in the end. I hope. At least that's what the plot bunny assured me, but he looked a little strange when he said it. . .


End file.
